


of stars and seraph blades

by blarkeontheark



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The 100 (TV)
Genre: AND MILLER FALLING IN LOVE WITH HIM ANYWAY, F/F, F/M, JACKSON AS A SILENT BROTHER, M/M, Werewolf Lincoln, abby and kane as warring heads of institutes, but honestly this could be so much fun to write, does one even need a summary for this, i think i'll only post the first chapter and then if anyone wants me to keep going with it i will, i thought about making roan a seelie but nah he's a vampire, i'm just coming up with this as i type honestly, its a SHADOWHUNTERS AU, jasper and monty are parabatai, seelie!luna falls in love with warlock!raven, this is my summary right here, vampire!emori
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-02-13 13:39:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12985212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blarkeontheark/pseuds/blarkeontheark
Summary: Abby Griffin and Marcus Kane, warring heads of the Arkadia and Polis Institutes. Bellamy Blake, a fearless Shadowhunter. Monty and Jasper, parabatai. Raven Reyes, the High Warlock of Polis, and her Seelie girlfriend, Luna. Clarke Griffin, who the Seelies call Commander of Death. Nathan Miller, inexplicably in love with Silent Brother Jackson. John Murphy, who can't stop thinking about Emori, one of the vampires in the Polis clan. Octavia Blake, who stumbles upon a wounded werewolf named Lincoln. This is your friendly neighborhood Shadowhunters AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this could be really great or this could turn out really terrible lol

"Ichor! Ichor! Wash off the ichor! Octavia Blake, you will be lucky if I let you go on the next dozen missions, I don't care how good you are with that longsword, if you can't take off your boots before you enter the Institute!"

Octavia grinned, falling into a chair and sliding off her boots, covered in demon blood. "Sorry, Kane," she laughed. "Always forget."

"You're cleaning it up." Kane tried to suppress a smile and failed. "How was it? Are you injured?"

"Nah. Thing 1's putting a few iratzes on Thing 2 but it's fine, he just hit the ground wrong and rolled his ankle."

Kane huffed. "And how many Downworlders did you piss off along the way?"

Octavia winced. "Well..."

"Spit it out."

"Let's just say that if you see a vampire looking sideways at you, I'd walk away. Quickly. With your hands covering your throat," Octavia added. 

Kane slumped into a chair. "Octavia, do you understand the meaning of paperwork?"

"Yeah. Bellamy's future job when he takes over as Head of Institute."

"And my current job," Kane said wryly. "Why don't you try explaining to Inquisitor Jaha why the vampires no longer respect the Blood Agreement?"

"They never respected it anyway," Jasper called. "It just took Octavia to call them out on it."

"Was I wrong?" Octavia, abandoning her boots on the floor, ran across the room to playfully shove Jasper into the wall. He elbowed her in the ribs and she shrieked with laughter. 

"Okay, enough," Kane said. "Octavia, pick up your boots and clean that ichor off the floor before it burns a hole through it. 

"Copy that." Octavia picked up the boots gingerly, carrying them out of the room. "Jasper, can you clean the floor?"

Kane glared. "Octavia!"

Her laughter followed her out of the room. 

…

“Blake.”

Octavia didn’t look up.

“Tiny Blake.”

“Call me Tiny Blake one more time,” Octavia threatened. “What is it, Thing 2?”

“Kane wants us in the study,” Monty informed her. “I’m pretty sure our vampire meeting went worse than we thought.”

“Fuck.” Octavia dropped the dishes she was washing. “Is he mad?”

“Oh, as mad as Kane ever gets, anyway. He knows better than to expect any mission with you goes perfectly.”

“Yeah, but I might actually have to clean up my mess this time.” Octavia adjusted the strap of her tank top and followed Monty out of the kitchen, collecting Jasper in the hallway.

As she expected, Kane was wearing a heavy, exasperated expression as they came in.

“This is the last time I send the three of you out on a mission together,” he said sternly. “Take a look at what Roan, the head of the Polis vampire clan, sent us.”

“It’s just a piece of paper,” Jasper said skeptically. “With a smear of blood on it.”

“It’s supposed to represent the Blood Agreement,” Kane sighed. “Which means that we have to do something about it, or risk all of the mundanes in Polis being subject to vampire attacks left right and center.”

“We’re not the only ones policing the vampires,” Monty pointed out. “They have their own system. We’re not really in charge of them.”

“There’s a reason we needed a Blood Agreement in the first place,” Octavia argued. “Look, this was my fault in the first place. I’ll deal with it.”

“Absolutely not,” Kane said. “You made this mess, you do not get to roll around in it. I’ll send Bellamy and Miller to deal with it, but not today.” He folded his arms. “I’ve already informed the two of them of this, but we’re having another Institute visit.”

“Really?” Jasper leaned forward. “Which one?”

“Arkadia.” His eyes tracked the sheet of paper he was holding. “The woman who runs it is called Abby Griffin, and she’s got a daughter and two other kids staying at the Institute. She took over when her husband got into an altercation with a Greater Demon. Apparently, she’s a powerhouse, and has a significant following of people who would like her to be the next Consul.”

“What?” Octavia shot to her feet. “But you’re going to run for Consul!”

Kane shrugged. “I don’t know her. I guess I’ll make up my mind about her when she gets here.”

“And when will that be?” Jasper asked.

“Tonight.” 

Monty and Jasper exchanged glances. Octavia grinned gleefully. “You said there are kids coming, right?” 

“God, Octavia, you can’t monopolize everyone as your best friend,” Jasper complained. 

“Excuse me.” Monty laid back in his chair. “Don’t you already have a best friend?”

Jasper scoffed. “You’re already my parabatai, man. You can’t win ‘em all.”

Monty kicked him lazily. “Idiot.”

…

 

Bellamy Blake rose to his feet as the chimes of the Institute doorbell rang out.

“Is that them?” Octavia who had been quietly swishing red nail polish over her toes for the past half hour, capped the bottle and jumped to her feet. “What do you think they’re like? They’re Arkadians, Bell.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bellamy replied curtly. “Inquisitor Jaha shouldn’t have invited them here. We can handle this ourselves.”

“Come on, Bellamy. The Griffins are supposed to be nice people. It’s not just Abby either, she’s got a daughter and two other kids staying in that Institute.”

“And they’re all coming here.”

“BELLAMY.”

“I got the door,” Jasper yelled, rushing past them. “Oh. Kane’s got the door.”

Octavia pushed past Bellamy, taking care not to smudge her toenails, and landed breathlessly beside Kane as a small woman with brown hair strode into the Polis Institute, followed closely by three teenagers. 

The darker-haired boy had a long nose and a sour expression. The girl with medium blonde hair was tall, with wide brown eyes and hair in a French braid over her shoulder. The girl with the palest hair had the front ends twisted to meet in a knot at the back of her head. She had a round face, a dimpled chin and a serious expression.

Bellamy instantly decided that he was not going to like her.

“Abby Griffin,” Kane said coolly, seemingly having made the same decision about the older woman. “I’m Marcus Kane, the head of this Institute. The Inquisitor has told me that you’re from Arkadia?”

“The Inquisitor is right.” She shook his hand brusquely. “This is John Murphy, Harper McIntyre, and my daughter, Clarke Griffin. Your High Warlock met us at the gate to close the portal. Nice girl, do you know Raven well?”

Kane turned to assess who was behind him. Somehow, Monty and Miller had managed to silently slip up behind him. “Bellamy and Octavia Blake, Jasper Jordan, Monty Green, and Nathan Miller. And unfortunately, Raven and I are not well acquainted.”

Clarke smiled. Bellamy glared. 

A slightly awkward silence stretched between them. Kane sighed. “I’m sure Bellamy can show you all—“

“That’s alright,” Abby interrupted mildly. “We’re familiar with the layout of an Institute, thank you, Marcus.”

A sudden beeping came from one of the screens across the room. Octavia, no longer giving heed to the state of her nail polish, dashed across the room and tapped on the alert.

“Seven Behemoths on Front Street West,” she said. “It’s kind of an emergency, oops. Bad timing. Rune up, everyone. Bell, can you get us to the Polis Tower?”

“What are demons doing at the Polis Tower?” Bellamy grumbled. “It’s 11:00 at night.”

“Could be mundanes,” Clarke said.

“I didn’t ask you, Princess.”

“Bellamy!” Octavia snapped. She handed her brother a stele, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. “Can you give me a Night Vision and Stamina?”

“You had six cups of coffee this afternoon. You don’t need Stamina for a couple of Behemoths.”

“Only four of you need to go out,” Kane said. “Octavia, put on a jacket. Now. Monty, you don’t need to go tonight, and Jasper, you’re not going without him. Bellamy—“

“I can go,” Clarke volunteered, quickly striking her stele across her skin in a series of runes. “I’m already in gear.”

“I can show you where the weapons room is,” Octavia volunteered. “Bell, are you coming?”

“I’m coming.”

He thought he saw Clarke roll her eyes.

“I’ll go with you,” the Arkadia boy said. 

“Thanks, Murphy,” Clarke said. “Well. Your weapons room?”

“Let’s go,” Octavia said brightly.

…

“How do you find anything in here?”

Clarke waded through the haphazard piles of weapons stacked on the floor and walls. “Ugh, my mom would have a conniption if I kept the room like this. She loves everything to be neat.”

“Then I have a feeling your mom and Kane aren’t going to get along very well,” Bellamy said dryly.

“Bell,” Octavia sighed. “Do you have to pick fights?”

“Oh, I’m okay with your brother picking fights,” Clarke said, getting a steely look in her eye. “Just as long as he’s up to actually fighting.”

“You think you can take me, Princess?”

“We’re supposed to be fighting a demon,” Octavia reminded them through gritted teeth. “Seven, in fact. This is not an episode of So You Think You Can Shadowhunter—“

“Shut up, Octavia.” Bellamy examined the messy array of weapons before selecting a bow and a quiver of arrows. He slid two seraph blades into his belt and tossed Clarke a third, who caught it one-handed and slid it into her own belt. She selected two butterfly knives and a few throwing knives, then grabbed another seraph blade for good measure. 

"I'm ready," she said as Octavia swung her sword over her shoulder and adjusted her boots. Murphy, meanwhile, was busy examining a misericord with interest. "Murphy, come on!"

"Be careful," Kane called after them. "No unnecessary risks. You come home safe."

"I got this," Bellamy assured him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i've gotten like 4 comments telling me to continue and i'm ?????? so happy that someone's taking time out of their life to read this garbage ????? so i've kept writing and i also wrote the next chapter after this and no spoilers but memori soon

They approached the van in the driveway, as blatant and white as always. 

"You should put some runes on that," Clarke suggested brightly. 

"Shotgun," Murphy announced, sliding into the passenger seat. Octavia threw herself into the back, Clarke behind her, and they took off, bumping past the Institute gates and into the streets of Polis. 

Clarke, for one, had never seen the city, so she was fascinated by the bright lights as Bellamy joined the flow of night traffic heading for Front Street. 

"Mom will love this," she commented, leaning forward to talk directly to Murphy. 

"You'd really peg Abby as the type to be entranced by the city aesthetic?" 

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Well, when you put it like that..."

"Tell me about Abby," Octavia said, turning away from the window. She smiled at Clarke. "What's she like?"

"Stubborn as all hell," Clarke sighed. "But brilliant, always. I think she envies the Silent Brothers for their healing abilities. She values the individual over the common good."

"She's good at giving second chances," Murphy commented softly. 

"What about Kane?" Clarke cleared her throat. "He seems like a nice enough guy."

"Kane's always been like a father to us," Octavia said. "Our parents were cast out of the Clave, and we came to the Institute as soon as we were able to. He's...stern, but he's really a good person. You just sometimes have to look hard to see it. He strives for peace, and he values the common good over the individual."

"He's also good at giving second chances," Bellamy murmured. 

He pulled onto the lawn just then, inking an invisibility rune onto the van. "Okay. Eyes sharp, weapons hot. Anyone got a Sensor?"

"Mmhm. And it's vibrating," Octavia said, climbing out after her brother. "Whoa. A lot. They're nearby."

Clarke pulled her seraph blade out of her belt. “Pramheda,” she whispered, and it blazed up in a column of white light.

"Well, well, well."

The Shadowhunters spun to find the Polis vampires surrounding the van. 

…

Monty and Harper had dissolved into a discussion about historic Arkadia in the corner, and everyone else had more or less gone to sleep, so that left Abby and Kane sitting by the fire, studiously pretending the other didn't exist. 

Finally, Kane sighed. "Clarke seems like a nice girl," he offered. 

Abby quirked a smile. "She got all of Jake's looks and all of my stubbornness."

Kane laughed. "I just have to hope that none of my Shadowhunters ever meet the fate of ending up like me."

"When did they all come to live here?" Abby asked, curious despite herself. 

"Miller's parents died just two years ago, so that's when he joined us. Monty came when he was ten, and Jasper at eleven, and they became parabatai at thirteen. Bellamy brought Octavia when he was eight and she was three."

“So you’ve basically raised them.” Abby edged her feet closer to the fire. “They all seem like lovely kids.”

Kane coughed. “They’re a handful, that’s for sure.”

“You’re running this Institute all by yourself, huh?”

“Aren’t you?”

She dipped her head. “That I am.”

Kane raised an eyebrow. “You know, if you ever need help—“

“Why would I need help?” she snapped, all trace of warmth gone from her voice. “Thanks, Kane, but I think I’ve got it handled.”

“Abby, come on.”

She got up and stalked out of the room. 

Kane sighed, idly rubbing his beard and trying to figure out the mystery of this small, stubborn woman.

…

“Roan,” Bellamy said resignedly.

The vampire snorted. “Back again? Haven’t you all left well enough alone? And did you seriously bring backup?”

“They’re visitors,” Octavia snapped. 

“Clarke, stay behind me,” Bellamy said in a low voice, but Clarke shoved him aside.

“My name is Clarke of the Arkadia Institute,” she said. “Can we help you, Roan?”

Roan sized her up. “You,” he said. “The Seelies, they call you Wanheda. The Commander of Death.”

“What?” Bellamy turned to look at her. “What is he talking about?”

“Oh!” Octavia gasped. “What? Clarke, that’s you?”

“Someone please explain what’s going on right now,” Bellamy growled.

“During the Mortal War, she lured a whole bunch of Seelies into a trap and killed them with a bomb,” Murphy said dully. “Now the Seelies think she’s some sort of death-wielder.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Octavia said in a hushed tone. “How did we get Wanheda at our Institute and not know?”

Clarke stared straight at Roan, expression unchanging. “Yeah, that’s me,” she said. With her short blonde hair and the shadows in her face underlit by the seraph blade in her left hand, she looked like an avenging angel. “Can we help you, Roan?”

“I have no quarrel with you,” Roan said. “It’s them I want to talk to.”

“Listen.” Octavia crossed her arms. “If you want to talk to the Head of Institute and organize a summit, do that. But in the meantime, we’re not here for you. We’re here for a couple of Behemoth demons.”

“What, the mundanes over there? Why do you think we’re here, too?” Roan grinned.

Octavia sighed. “Can you at least wait until we’re finished before you start—“

“Oh, calm down. We won’t disturb your battle.” Another vampire stepped forward, with dark hair and olive skin. She grinned. “But we’re not done with you, little Shadowhunters.”

“We’ll see about that,” Bellamy said dryly. “Will you let us through so we can do our job?”

Clarke slowly lifted her seraph blade. “Or we will be forced to consider this a breach of the Accords.”

Roan glanced at her through narrowed eyes. Finally, he turned to the vampire by his side. “Stand down, Emori. We’re not going to bother these Nephilim tonight. Not with Wanheda here.”

And they were gone just as soon as they’d arrived, disappearing into the night without a glance backwards.

Bellamy looked at Clarke, who looked deep in thought. “Commander of Death?”

“Yeah,” she muttered bitterly. “That’s me. Some Shadowhunters get a nickname like ‘hero of the Mortal War,’ and I get one for blowing up a group of Seelies.” She bit her lip. “The Cold Peace is disgusting, and now they all think I support it.” She shook her head. “I just wanted to protect my people.”

“I can see why you don’t flaunt the title,” Octavia said wryly.

Clarke quirked a smile. 

And to Bellamy’s surprise, she turned it on him.

“Ready to kill some demons?”

He lifted an arrow out of its quiver and notched it, scanning the courtyard.

“Always,” he said.

…

So…maybe Miller had been following them. 

And maybe, just maybe, he’d been hiding in the bushes when the vampires rushed by.

“Wait.” The one with the dark hair stopped in his tracks, eyes zeroing in on where Miller crouched.

“I’m their backup,” Miller said quickly. 

“Yeah, right,” Roan said. “Emori. Anya. Grab him.”

Miller’s seraph blade flashed out, stopping the two in their tracks.

“I wouldn’t,” he warned.

“Come on,” Anya said to Roan. “We don’t have to kill him.”

“Anya—”

“He’s a Nephilim, Roan. We’d be breaking the Accords if we killed him anyway.”

“We’re not killing him, Anya. We’re keeping him hostage. The Clave can’t lose one of their precious Shadowhunters. We have an upper hand in the resigning of the Blood Agreement.”

“They’re not going to bargain with vampires that kidnap their people,” Miller snapped, slashing out with his seraph blade, driving them back another foot. He knew that if he yelled, twenty vampires would attack him before he could think, and he desperately tried to find a way out of this scenario. “Look,” he said, “this is definitely a breach of the Accords. The Clave’s not going to be happy if they find out that you kidnapped me.”

“He’s right,” another vampire piped up. “We’re going to have to find a different way.”

“We all want to fix this problem,” Emori opined. She glanced at Miller. “Maybe you can help us.”

He exhaled in relief. “As long as you’re not kidnapping me, I can help you.”

Emori smiled slightly. “I can work with that.”

“Enough,” Roan snapped. “We can talk about this later. If we’re not at TonDC before the sun rises, we won’t be able to fix this at all.”

With three separate flashes, they disappeared into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> catch me on tumblr @snowylexa


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> memori and bellarke and marper oh my

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont have a single damn clue how to use italics on this thing so i just capitalized the silent brothers dialogue. they're not shouting

“Hey.” Clarke straightened as she ducked a flailing limb. “They left one behind.”

“Huh?” Octavia slashed the air with her sword, then glanced over her shoulder. “That’s not a vampire, that’s Miller!”

“What—” Bellamy panted. “The hell—is Miller—doing—here?”

“Ask him yourself!” Octavia drove her sword into the heart of the demon, watching as it disintegrated, collapsing in on itself as it was sucked back to its home dimension. “Ugh, these things are disgusting.”

“I’m here to help your ungrateful asses.” Miller emerged from the shadows, unnamed seraph blade in hand. “Also, where the hell is the other Arkadia boy?”

“Murphy?” Clarke glanced around. “Shit,” she groaned, fishing a radio from her hip and hitting the button. “Murphy, come in.”

Bellamy stared at her. “Is that a fucking walkie-talkie?”

Clarke wiggled it in the air. “We find them to be helpful when we have to split up.”

“That’s really smart, actually.” Octavia, ignoring Bellamy’s look of disbelief, grabbed the radio and examined it. “Bell, we need these!”

Clarke smiled slightly, taking the radio back and pressing it again. “Murphy. Come. In.”

The radio crackled. “For the love of God, Clarke, I’m alive.”

“Where are you?” Clarke hissed. “We’ve still got three demons on the loose and you’re AWOL!”

“Jesus, Clarke, have a bitch fit. I’m just running the perimeter, but I’m on my way if it makes you feel better.”

“Good,” Clarke snapped, tucking her radio back into her belt.

Bellamy was smirking slightly. Octavia elbowed him in the ribs and readied her sword.

“Get ready,” Clarke said, turning her back to the siblings. “My Sensor is going off.”

…

If truth was being told, Murphy was not manning the perimeter. Murphy was following the vampires.

Downwind. Letting them catch his scent. Letting them know he was there.

It only took two seconds for a crowd of them to surround him.

“It’s another one of the stupid Nephilim from Arkadia,” one of them called. She had light brown hair and was glaring viciously at him. Despite himself, Murphy lurched backwards a bit.

“Give it a rest, Anya,” another girl called, and the group melted into the shadows as she stepped forward.

“Thanks,” Murphy said suspiciously. “I just wanted to find out what you guys were up to.”

With a flick of her wrist, there was a knife to his throat and he could tell her fangs were bared.

“Why would you want to know?” she asked silkily. Her face was still hidden, out of the streetlight, and all he could make out was that a scarf was tied around her hair. 

“Well,” Murphy said dryly, “I believe it’s our job to make peace with you bloodsuckers, so I figured I’d get a head start.”

He half-expected a fang to the throat, but surprisingly, she laughed and relaxed her hold on him.

“What’s your name, Shadowhunter?” she asked. 

“John Murphy.”

“Huh.”

“And you?” he asked.

“So inquisitive.” 

He rolled his eyes skyward. “What are you doing? I have to get back to killing some demons or whatever the fuck Clarke wants me to do now.”

“Clarke.” She turned the word over. “That’s Wanheda, isn’t it?”

“That’s the one,” Murphy muttered.

“You’re not a normal Nephilim.”

Murphy snorted. “What’s a normal Nephilim?”

“Pretentious.” She inched slightly closer to the light. “Entitled. Wouldn’t ask my name purely out of curiosity.”

“Who says it’s curiosity?”

The light fell across her face. Olive skin, dark hair, and a swirling blue tattoo decorating her forehead, nose, and cheek.

“If it weren’t,” she said softly, “you wouldn’t still be here.”

“But you’re—” Murphy started, then stopped when he realized that she wasn’t, in fact, holding him back anymore.

And in the next second, she was gone.

He huffed and shook his head slightly when he realized he hadn’t even caught her name.

…

“Murphy!” Bellamy bellowed.

As he approached at a jog, he realized that Bellamy and Clarke were crouched over Octavia, who appeared to be unconscious, crumpled on the pavement.

“What happened to her?” he demanded.

“Got its disgusting tentacle around her neck and squeezed. We’ve tried iratzes, but they keep sinking into her skin.”

“Silent Brothers,” Clarke suggested. “Come on. Help me get her into the van.”

Bellamy worried at his lip. “We have to get her home fast.”

“So drive fast.”

Quickly, Bellamy scooped her up and threw her over his shoulders, making a run for the van. With Clarke’s help, he eased her into the backseat and slammed the door. Murphy had just enough time to dive into the backseat when Bellamy squealed back onto the road, leaving Clarke to hurriedly slam the door shut.

Rune after rune after rune.

Octavia, breathing faintly, didn’t wake.

…

“CALL THE SILENT BROTHERS!”

Kane jumped to his feet as the pounding of feet echoed through the hallway. Bellamy was carrying an unconscious Octavia, while Clarke and Murphy, weapons sheathed and looking panicked, dashed in behind them.

Not two minutes later, Miller, who had taken a separate car, raced into the living room, where Octavia was sprawled on the sofa. “What the hell happened to her?”

“Nearly choked to death, and we suspect she got a poisoned barb in the neck,” Clarke explained hurriedly. “We’re waiting on the Silent Brothers.”

WE ARE HERE.

Clarke jumped as three figures, accompanied by Kane, glided through the door. Two of them immediately bent over Octavia, and the third stood at the door, apparently conversing to Kane.

“I hate the Silent Brothers,” Jasper muttered.

“They’re not that bad,” Monty replied, as usual exactly in tune with what he was thinking. “You just have to not speak to them directly and they usually get the hint.”

The first Silent Brother by Octavia straightened to face the group. As his hood shifted backwards and his face was revealed, Miller glanced over to get a better look.

Most of the Silent Brothers had their eyes and mouths stitched shut, cheekbones scarred by runes, but this one seemed almost like…he wasn’t completely a Silent Brother.

Like he was more human. As his eyes landed on Miller, Miller found himself included in the headspace conversation. If that’s what you could call it.

SHE’LL BE FINE, the Brother said. SHE NEEDS REST, AND ONE OF US TO STAY HERE UNTIL TOMORROW NIGHT TO WATCH HER.

As quickly as they had come, two of them drifted towards the door, leaving the third one to carefully scoop up Octavia and carry her towards one of the many Institute bedrooms.

“Thank you, Brother Jackson,” Kane said calmly. “When will she wake up?”

SOON.

Inexplicably, Miller found himself tagging along as Kane followed Brother Jackson and Octavia.

…

There was a knock on Bellamy’s door as he was brushing his teeth. Spitting quickly into the sink, he dropped his toothbrush and headed towards the door, not bothering to grab a shirt.

Instant regret. On the other side of the door was Clarke, who looked just as surprised as he was.

Quickly snatching a t-shirt off of his dressed and tugging it on, he glared at her, still hoping she was a mirage. “What do you want?”

The mirage pursed her lips. “I just wanted to say that I know you’re worried about Octavia,” she said softly. “But she’s going to be okay. I just spoke to Jackson, and—”

“I don’t need your condolences,” he snapped.

Clarke looked slightly taken aback, but quickly regained her wits. “Can we not be civil to each other?” she said coolly. “I’m going to be here for a while—”

“Maybe.”

“—and it would be nice if we weren’t constantly at each other’s throats,” she continued, as if he hadn’t cut her off. “I don’t even know why you hate me.”

“Because we don’t need help with this Blood Agreement!” he shouted. “You four just waltz your way into our Institute and make yourselves at home…”

“An Institute is a lodging place for all Shadowhunters,” she said coldly. “If you pulled your head out of your ass, you might be able to read the Codex better.”

“Get out.”

“Of what, the Institute? I kind of can’t do that.”

“Go home, Clarke. What are you doing here? I don’t need your pity about my sister.”

For a moment, it looked like she was on the verge of tears, and he almost felt bad, but she gave him another angry glare and stormed off down the hall.  
…

“Don’t tell me you have a thing for him.”

Clarke blinked as she noticed Harper, who appeared to have been walking next to her for quite some time.

“Who, Bellamy?” she snorted. “He’s an asshole, Harper.”

“An asshole with nice abs.”

“How long have you been walking behind me?”

“Since you left his room,” she said triumphantly. “You were just too caught up thinking about Bellamy to notice.”

“Did you hear how rude he was?” Clarke demanded, effectively skirting around Harper’s accusation. “What a grade-A dickhead! I come to tell him I’m sorry about his sister, and—”

“Yeah, yeah, tell me about all of your teenage angst,” Harper droned. “Listen, I told Monty I’d meet him in the kitchen in, like, three minutes, so go bother Murphy with this. If it helps, I heard him comment on how hot Bellamy is, too, so maybe you have competition.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Maybe he and Murphy deserve each other.”

Harper laughed all the way down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> catch me on tumblr @snowylexa


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm posting these really fast i know but i hate just having chapters sit around after i write them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know alex was murphy's father in the show so i slightly altered that one for this—they were siblings and parabatai, kind of like ty and livvy.
> 
> well. not exactly like ty and livvy. actually, i don't want to think about ty and livvy or i'm going to start crying. if y'all haven't read lord of shadows yet, what are you even doing with your lives.

“Is she going to be okay?”

Miller had no idea why he was still in there, if only for the fact that he was unexpectedly fascinated by the Silent Brothers’ healing magic.

He winced slightly, expecting to hear that booming voice in the back of his head, but there was only a quiet, “Yes.”

He looked up. The Brother was staring at him, eyes open, lips still unsewn, capable of speech and telepathy at once. 

“You can talk,” Miller said stupidly.

“I am not a full Brother,” Jackson said calmly. “I cannot bear all of the runes anymore.”

“Why not?” He realized quickly that it was a personal question, and tried to backtrack. “I mean—only if you want—”

“It happened during the Mortal War,” Jackson said. “Another Brother was hit by a burst of heavenly fire, and I was stripped of most of my magic. I am mortal, I will age and die as other Brothers will not, but I chose to stay within their ranks, as I cannot imagine a life without it.”

“Don’t you have family to go back to?” Miller asked. “Can you—feel things? That other Silent Brothers can’t?”

“My family is long dead,” Jackson said easily. “Yes. I can. But I try to remain as formal and emotionless as possible.”

Behind his bright eyes, Miller could finally see what was under the premise of the bone-colored robes: a boy, trying to fit in with his people.

Just like him.

“So how old are you?” Miller asked curiously.

Jackson barked a rueful laugh. “Old,” he said. “Probably around two hundred and fifty-eight.”

“Holy Raziel,” Miller said, amazed. “What was your life like before you became a Brother? Why did you—”

“Bell?”

A sleepy voice croaked from the bed, and both Miller and Jackson shot to their feet. Octavia was slowly opening her eyes, staring up at them.

“You brought the goddamn Silent Brothers?” she mumbled. “Kane’s never going to let me on a mission again.”

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” Miller breathed. Truth be told, he really did care about Octavia, and not just because she was Bellamy’s sister. “Octavia, you almost died.”

“But I didn’t,” she countered. “Where’s my brother?”

“I’ll get him.” Miller shot Jackson a glance; his eyes held a clear ‘to be continued.’

Miller nodded and hurried down the hall to grab Bellamy.

…

Murphy examined the bracelet in his pocket.

He’d found it around his wrist—quickly slipped on as the girl had escaped into the night. It was a cue, really: return the bracelet. Find her again.

He also knew there was no way Abby would let him go. So, really, there was only one option. Slip out while she was asleep. 

He ran into Clarke, who was angrily muttering to Harper about Bellamy, so caught up in her rant she didn’t even seem to notice him.

After that, it was only a matter of sneaking out the second story window and landing gracefully on the grass.

He thought fleetingly that he had absolutely no clue where the vampires hung out in this city, and he also never paid attention during lessons on tracking runes, but it didn’t matter, because she was there in front of him as he opened the gate.

“Still want to know my name?” she teased.

“Not a chance,” he said. “Emori.”

He’d asked Bellamy earlier, and he’d rolled his eyes. “The girl vampire with the face tattoo?” he’d confirmed. “That’s Emori. Annoying as all get-out. Always steals our shit and hides it. Which is probably a breach of the Accords, but Jaha’s getting sick of us running to him every time she pisses us off, so we don’t get much help on that front.”

She grinned as he said her name. “Let’s go for a walk.”

In a flash, she was ten feet away, and Murphy had to run to keep up with her.

“Wait up,” he called.

Her laughter echoed through the street. “Try and keep up!”

…

“Octavia!”

Dawn was breaking as Clarke smiled down at the girl.

“I heard you finished that one off,” Octavia said, stretching an arm lazily towards Clarke to high-five her. “Good on you. Bellamy must be pissing himself. A pretty girl who can kill demons and who the Seelies are afraid of? Girlfriend material, right there.”

“I am not.” Bellamy, who both girls had assumed to be asleep, cracked his eyes open and glared sleepily at both of them from the armchair. “And she isn’t that pretty.”

Clarke tried not to snort. “You don’t look so pretty yourself right now.”

“I swear to fucking Raziel, shut the fuck up.”

“Where’s our Silent Brother?” Kane asked, choosing to ignore Bellamy's display of expletives.

“I think he went to the kitchen with Miller,” Octavia said. “Do Silent Brothers need to eat? I guess they do.”

“Sorry, I just can’t imagine one of them snacking on a bag of Tostitos,” Clarke laughed. “Do you think they crunch them? Or do they just somehow eat all food silently, too?”

“Well, their mouths are sewn shut,” Bellamy said reasonably. “They probably don’t eat.”

“This one’s isn’t,” Octavia pointed out. “Jackson’s eyes and mouth are both unsewn. He’s got the runes, though. And, I don’t know, he looks more human than the others.”

“So he eats food,” Kane summarized. “I’m sure they won’t be long.”

“I’m going to take a nap,” Octavia announced.

“You’ve been sleeping for hours,” Bellamy said incredulously.

“Yup, and I’m gonna sleep a few more.” Octavia turned on her side and pulled the covers up to her chin, dozing off into a deep sleep.

Clarke claimed the chair next to Bellamy, kicking off her slippers and pulling her knees into her chest.

“No one said you had to be here,” Bellamy said as Kane disappeared into the hallway.

“I did,” Clarke said calmly. “I’d appreciate it if you’d shut the fuck up and be a decent human being for once in your life.”

Somehow, that struck Bellamy into silence.

“What did I ever do to you?” Clarke asked. “I’ve been nothing but civil and friendly and helpful and you’ve just been a giant asshole the whole time. No one can love their sister this much and just naturally be a jerk.” She tilted her head. “So it’s me.”

Bellamy scowled at the floor. “I just…I don’t need another friend. I’ve got everyone I need here.”

“Well, yeah,” Clarke said. “We don’t have to be best friends. Just don’t be rude to me. I’m not your enemy, Bellamy Blake.”

“And we don’t need help with the Blood Agreement,” he muttered.

“Whatever you say, buddy.”

…

“I could make waffles or something,” Miller suggested. “We’ve got Bellamy’s secret stash of Froot Loops, Octavia’s secret stash of Cinnamon Toast Crunch—”

THEY’RE BOTH SECRET, AND YET YOU KNOW ABOUT THEM?

Miller glanced up in surprise, and Jackson shook his head. “Habits. I’m not used to speaking out loud.”

Miller smiled slightly. “They’re only secret from each other and Kane. Bellamy thinks he’s so slick, but he doesn’t realize I’ve been secretly taking from his stash the whole time.” He reached into the cabinet under the sink and removed a red box of sugary cereal. “Froot Loops, then?”

“I’ve never heard of Froot Loops,” Jackson said curiously. 

“You don’t get out much, do you?” Miller poured them both bowls and rummaged in the fridge for the milk. “Here. Spoons are in that drawer there.”

“In all my years of being a Silent Brother,” Jackson said, “I don’t think I’ve ever shared breakfast with a Shadowhunter before.”

Miller aimed his spoon towards Jackson. “I’ve never had breakfast with a Silent Brother before. So that makes two of us, I guess.”

Jackson ducked his head, and Miller could make out the ghost of a smile on his scarred face. “I guess so.”

…

As the sun broke through the horizon, Emori and Murphy ducked into an empty warehouse.

Honestly, he could barely remember what they’d done—a lot of running, a lot of whispering, her pausing to carefully drink some blood from a homeless woman in the street and erase her memory.

Somehow, he felt like he understood her—she was a thief, a cunning liar, like he was. She wasn’t brute or cold, like any vampire he’d ever met. And he wasn’t noble and pretentious, like any Shadowhunter she’d ever met.

“I’ve got to get back to the Institute,” he breathed as she locked the warehouse door and tugged on a chain above the door to turn on the light. “How are you going to get back to your people?”

She grinned. “I have my ways.”

“Hey.” He reached out to grab her hand, but she yanked it back. “Oh. Uh…”

“Don’t do that,” she said coolly.

“What, take your hand?”

She hesitated. “If I told you, you would not look at me the same.”

“Yeah, right. Don’t tell me this is a metaphor for having blood on your hands.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “We all have blood on our hands.”

“You don’t.”

He touched a scar on his shoulder. A faded rune. A flash of a face, a voice.

“Yeah,” he said dully. “I do.”

Carefully, Emori pushed his shirt backwards, exposing the silvery trace of a rune on his shoulder. A diagram of swishing lines.

“You had a parabatai,” she said. 

Scowling, Murphy tugged his shirt back over his shoulder. “His name was Alex,” he said. “He was my brother."

"How did he die?"

Murphy pressed his lips together. "I let him go on a mission alone," he said. "My father told me to go with him, but I…didn't. After he died, I ran away. Went to live at the Institute. Started going by my last name. My first name reminded me of him too much." He swallowed. "Go on. Your turn.”

Exhaling, Emori unwrapped the shapeless glove on her left hand, pulling it off. 

A mutated hand appeared in the LED glow of the lightbulb above them. As Murphy stared, she yanked her hand backwards and covered it again.

Despite himself, he smiled slightly. “That looks pretty badass.”

“Liar.” Her voice was slightly unsteady.

“Is that related to how you became a vampire?” he asked.

Emori shrugged. “Yeah. My parents tossed me out on the streets, and Roan found me. He told me I could either die there, in the rainy alley, or let him Turn me. So I let him.”

“How long ago was that?”

She tilted her head, considering. “Probably forty years.”

“Wow.” Murphy reached for her hand again.

This time, she let him take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: @snowylexa


	5. Chapter 5

Raven Reyes sighed and glanced at the memo slipped under her door before vanishing it with a flick of her fingers. 

There was nothing she hated more than dealing with Nephilim, but this mess was hers to clean up. She had inadvertently let Wanheda into the city, and the Seelies were pissed.

She was tempted to arrange a bunch of acorns into the words FUCK OFF and roll them all the way to the entrance to Faerieland, but instead she threw her hands in front of her, letting her magic surround her in a whirl of black and indigo fire, coalescing into a Portal. 

Yeah, she could have walked the three blocks, but she did have a bad leg, and she didn’t particularly feel like it today. Today, she felt like throwing herself down into her chair with a good science fiction novel and a cup of tea.

She shoved her phone into her pocket and stepped through the Portal, closing it behind her as she stood in front of the Institute’s gates.

“A High Warlock’s work is never done,” she muttered.

…

“Have you ever thought about Brotherhood?” 

Miller shook his head as Jackson pressed his fingers to Octavia’s forehead, clearly searching for something inside her head. For her part, Octavia was deeply asleep again.

It was good, Jackson had said. She was regaining her strength. 

“I never did.” Miller cleared his throat. “I couldn’t…have that kind of lifestyle. I want to fight. To eventually meet someone. Fall in love. Run an Institute with him.”

“It sounds like you’ve already met this person,” Jackson said idly, busying himself with pulling Octavia’s blanket over her shoulders. 

Miller shook his head. “I thought I had,” he said quietly. “But…no. I haven’t.”

Jackson nodded. “I thought I had, too,” he said. “Once.”

Miller leaned against the wall, folding his arms. “Before you became a Silent Brother?”

Jackson nodded. “I became a Silent Brother after my mother died,” he said. “It wasn’t in battle—it was an illness we had no records of. I devoted my time with the Brothers to curing it.”

“Did you?”

His smile was only slightly sad. “We did.” His eyes were full of more life than Miller had ever seen in them before. “His name was Oliver,” Jackson said. “He was a Herondale—all fire and dramatics, you know? And one day he just decided…we weren’t meant to be. He’d fallen in love with someone else.”

Miller exhaled. “Yeah, that’s what happened with Bryan, too. Except, he didn’t fall in love with anyone else. He just decided we weren’t compatible anymore. Didn’t see eye-to-eye on the same things.”

Jackson stood back from Octavia, seemingly without words.

He was, after all, a Silent Brother, Miller remembered, slightly amused.

“It’s so strange,” Jackson said suddenly. “Having feelings again, when my soul has been muted for so long.”

“A good strange?” Miller wondered. “Or a bad strange?”

Jackson looked over at the other boy. Two and a half centuries apart, and yet he seemed to connect with him as easily as turning on a tap.

And from the look on Miller’s face, he felt it, too.

“A good strange,” Jackson said. “Don’t worry. It’s good.”

…

The deep chime of the Institute’s doorbell rang through the halls. As Abby jumped up to get the door, so did Kane.

They froze, staring each other down, waiting for the other to retake their seat.

Finally, they moved in sync towards the door, each trying to walk faster than the other.

Like schoolchildren, Clarke reflected as she idly followed them to the door. Each trying to outdo the other. 

As the door swung open, the three were suddenly face-to-face with a girl who looked about Clarke’s age. She had brown hair tied back in a haphazard ponytail and a very irritated expression crimping her features.

“Raven,” Abby said politely. “Kane, I’m sure you know your High Warlock.”

High Warlock. Clarke hadn’t gotten a good look at the girl as she’d Portaled them from place to place, but she guessed Raven was around 400 years old. 

So, not Clarke’s age at all. 

“I’m here for you,” Raven said, aiming a finger at Clarke. “Care to speak in the Sanctuary for a moment?”

Kane frowned, but Clarke nodded. “Of course,” she said.

And for a moment, she wondered if all of the High Warlocks were familiar with each other. Whether Raven was friends with Niylah. What Niylah might have told Raven about her.

And by the expression on Raven’s face, she definitely knew the extent of Clarke and Niylah’s relationship.

“I’m not here about that,” she said dismissively, smirking slightly. “Although, I really think Niylah could do better. No, I’m here because I keep getting warnings from the Seelies to get you the fuck out of Polis before you kill them all again.”

“What?” Clarke exclaimed. “That was in a war! They were trying to kill me! If they leave me alone, we’ll have absolutely no problem!”

“Yeah, they don’t quite see it that way,” Raven said darkly. “Look, Wanheda, this isn’t my fault. Just go home, okay?”

“No,” Clarke gritted. “First of all, my name is Clarke. And I’m here to fix issues with the vampires. I don’t have time for Seelie drama too.”

“Would you like some warlock drama to add to your plate?” Raven threatened. “Because if you don’t deal with this shit, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

“I can’t exactly march down there and explain myself,” Clarke shot back. “I’d be dead in seconds.”

“What do you suggest, then?”

“Go down there for me. Tell them I’m not leaving, and if they have an issue, they can take it up with the Nephilim. The Clave,” she added. “I’m here on Inquisitor Jaha’s orders.”

“Great.” Raven rolled her eyes. “Way to make it my problem.”

Clarke felt a slight prick of guilt. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I really don’t mean it to be.”

Raven threw her hands in the air. “Whatever. I’ll talk to the damn Seelies. Tell them it’s not my problem,” she said. “Fuck messages, I’m doing down there in person. Maybe I can get the queen to talk to me.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Uh huh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: @snowylexa


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so i hit 10,000 words on this fic (in three days !!!!!!!) and i've got some good bellarke coming up for y'all so get excited

“Hey, Murphy.”

Murphy paused as Clarke’s voice drifted from the end of the hall, sounding entirely too casual. 

“Yeah?” he said, trying to sound bored.

Her expression was smooth, unreadable. “I wanted to let you know that Octavia’s going to be okay.”

“Good,” Murphy said hesitantly. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“You’re welcome.”

Clarke waited a full two beats before she continued, “I tried to let you know last night.”

Murphy folded his arms. “Yeah?”

Clarke sighed. “We could be having this conversation all day. Or you could tell me where the hell you were last night.”

Murphy should have expected that, really. Clarke was a remarkably direct person.

He stared her down. “Why?”

Clarke bristled. “What the fuck? Because you’re supposed to be accountable, and because if you tell me you were doing something, oh, I don’t know, legal, I won’t tell Mom that you slipped out in a city you know nothing about!”

Murphy glared.

“At least tell me the Clave would be okay with it,” Clarke said, an edge to her voice.

Murphy snorted. “Are you kidding? Jaha would have my head.”

Clarke huffed.

“Fine,” Murphy said. “You know that vampire? The one with the tattoo on her face?”

“You did not.”

“We just…talked for a few hours,” Murphy said. “I didn’t fix your damn Blood Agreement or anything. Just possibly made it easier.”

Clarke glared. “Which vampire is this?”

“Her name’s Emori. She’s…” Murphy searched for the right word. “She’s a lot like me. She understands me.”

Clarke’s expression relaxed slightly. “She could be deceiving you,” she warned gently. “You might not be as alike as you think.”

Murphy shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “But if she was, she would still be just like me.”

…

“Murphy’s found a trashbag vampire.”

Bellamy didn’t look up from his book. “Aren’t all vampires trashbags?”

Harper, who was camped out next to the fireplace, laughed. “No vampire could be more of a trashbag than Murphy.”

“Well, that’s where he was last night,” Clarke said. “He told me he was with this vampire girl. And they were just…talking.”

“And you believe him?” Harper squinted. “That’s nice and all, but—”

“Actually, I do,” Clarke said thoughtfully. “You know? Murphy may be an asshole, but I can’t remember the last time he ever lied to us.” She crossed the room to sit next to Harper. “Even when he first came to the Institute—he didn’t try to tell us his parents were dead. He told us exactly what had happened, and why he’d come, and then he never talked about it again.”

Harper hesitated. “Do you think he told the vampire about Alex?”

Clarke thought back to the look on his face, the pleading way he’d told her that they were alike. That she understood him.

“Yeah,” she said. “I really think he did.”

…

 

There were better ways to get the Seelie Queen’s attention, but Raven was tired of waiting around, and so she waded into the moonlit lake and fell backwards into it.

She landed hard on her back as her leg slipped from under her. Wincing, she scrambled to her feet as faerie guards surrounded her.

“What’s your business, warlock?” one of them demanded.

“Oh, shut up. I just want to talk to the Queen.”

The second bristled. “You can’t just demand to see the—”

“Enough,” a voice interrupted. Rough and lilting with just a hint of an accent. “Let her in.”

The first dipped his head. “Yes, your Majesty.”

Raven lifted her head to stare at the Queen. She was shorter than Raven had expected, but carried herself well. Her hair was a wild mess of curl and smooth, flat sections, and Raven could smell the ocean around her.

This was not the same Queen as she had known before the Mortal War. This one was tougher. Raven suddenly worried that this Queen would not listen to her.

But the girl waved her in through a curtain of fishnets. “Join me in my chamber. I know you would not be so foolish as to come here without a good reason.”

Feeling foolish enough already, Raven numbly followed her through the door. The guards began to trail, but the Queen shook her head.

“Leave us,” she commanded.

As they were left alone in the room, the Queen did not seat herself, but remained plainly standing in front of Raven.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

Raven’s mouth dropped open slightly. “My name?”

A hint of a smile. “What you call yourself, yes.”

“Last I heard,” Raven said, gathering her courage, “the Fair Folk didn’t care much for names.”

For a split second, she worried that the Queen would be angry. But her smile only grew wider.

Raven could see no hint of maliciousness in her face. Only openness.

“Maybe not,” she said. “But I have always liked them.”

“No one knows your name,” Raven reminded her.

“Names have incredible power,” the Queen said. “But you already seem to have that. So I see no harm in telling you my own.” She clasped her hands, cleared her throat. “My name is Luna.”

“Luna,” Raven echoed. “Your Majesty. My name is Raven Reyes.”

“Raven.” Luna’s voice sounded, Raven thought, like a river bouncing off of rocks. Like grass in the wind. Like every Seelie Queen’s voice should.

“Sit, then,” Luna said, gesturing to a seat that Raven hadn’t noticed before. It was a stool, with a high back, exactly the right height for Raven to sit on without having to strain. “Air your grievances, Raven Reyes. I know you didn’t come for a social call.

“I got a message this morning,” Raven said. “From one of your scouts. Warning me to get Wanheda out of Polis.”

Luna pressed her lips together, it was clear she didn’t like Wanheda more than any of the others. “And you cannot complete this task?”

“It’s not my decision!” Raven exploded. “I can’t make Clarke leave any more than I could make the Inquisitor step down from power!” 

“Clarke,” Luna mused. “You know her, then?”

“Not well.”

“Well enough to know her by name.”

“I know her…” Raven hesitated. Niylah wasn’t her girlfriend, exactly, more like her hookup. “Her friend,” she finished. “The High Warlock of Arkadia.”

“Hmmm.” Luna paced slowly, wandering the length of the extensive room. “What do you suggest I do?”

“Huh?” Raven momentarily felt her mind go blank. Was this a trick? Why was the Seelie Queen asking her what to do?

“What do you think?” Luna asked without missing a beat. 

“I…I would ask you to talk to the Shadowhunters,” Raven said. “And…stop dragging me into this, preferably.”

“Ilian!”

Raven frowned as a boy with long, messy hair and a tattoo of dots along his forehead entered the room.

“Your Majesty,” he said. 

“Did you send our guest any correspondence?”

“Our—” His eyes fell on Raven. “The warlock?”

“Her name,” Luna said calmly, “is Raven.”

By the look on Ilian’s face, he wasn’t any more used to this than Raven.

“Raven,” he muttered. “Yeah. I told you to get Wanheda out of Polis.”

“That,” Luna interrupted as Raven opened her mouth, “is not up to the High Warlock.”

“Why not?” Ilian glanced between the two of them.

“It’s a Shadowhunter issue,” Raven said. “I only came down here to tell you all to leave me out of it.”

“But—” Ilian started.

“You heard her answer,” Luna said. “Thank you for joining us, Ilian. If you have further issues, you know where the Polis Institute is.”

Ilian scowled.

“Dismissed,” Luna clarified, and he shuffled out of the room.

Raven let out a small laugh of amazement. “What prompted this…change in policy?”

Luna sat down on her throne across from Raven—a simple one, draped with fishnet and scattered in coral. “The Fair Folk are too harsh,” she said. “Now that the Cold Peace is over, a change in our ways is all too necessary.”

“Oh,” Raven said faintly.

“If all of our business is done,” Luna said, “I’ll arrange for a scout to take you back to the world.”

“Thank you,” Raven said, sliding off the stool. “For all your patience.”

“Come back anytime,” Luna said. “These doors shall never turn you away.”

…

“I just had the weirdest experience with the new Seelie Queen.”

“Yeah?” Niylah held the phone to her ear, idly flipping through TV channels by snapping her fingers. “Is she even worse than the last one?”

“No,” Raven said, and Niylah stopped channel surfing to frown. “She’s…lovely.”

“Oh, God,” Niylah groaned. “She’s even more manipulative—”

“No, Niylah, you know how I’m good at seeing right through people’s bullshit,” Raven said.

“The Seelie Queen isn’t people,” Niylah interjected.

“But Luna is—”

Niylah almost dropped the phone. “Luna? Did you just call the Queen by her name? How are you not dead right now?”

“She told me her name,” Raven said. “She told me that names have extraordinary power, but I had that already, so she saw no harm in telling me her name if I gave her mine.”

“Oh, good God,” Niylah groaned. “We’re all going to die.”

“Niylah, she was beautiful. And nice. And she basically told her scout to fuck off sending me messages. Basically exactly what I wanted to tell her.”

“You’re being taken in,” Niylah warned. 

“Why would she go to all that trouble just to let me go?” Raven argued. “Tell me I could come back whenever? Solve all of my problems with the Seelies in one fell swoop, and then…what?”

“You don’t know what her game is,” Niylah said. “Raven, she is the Seelie. Queen. The SEELIE QUEEN. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Maybe not,” Raven said.

“You’re going to go back, aren’t you?”

Raven laughed. “She can’t hurt me. I’m too awesome for that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @snowylexa


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i know this is a SUPER long chapter (for me, anyway, i know 2,000 words really isn't that much) but i felt like i had to include the whole rooftop sequence in one chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy the bellarke and memori

By the time night fell again, Murphy had taken a nap during the day and was waiting in the warehouse when a large weight fell onto his shoulders, catching him off guard.

“By the Angel, you’re like a fucking bat,” Murphy breathed as Emori jumped to the ground and spun him to face her.

He was surprised again when her lips unexpectedly landed on his, pulling him towards her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever kissed a vampire before,” he blurted as they broke apart.

“You’re cute for a Shadowhunter, you know,” she said quietly, smirking at him in the darkened warehouse.

“Where are we going tonight?” he asked.

Emori shrugged. “I thought we could just sit on the roof,” she said. “I want to hear more about you.” She touched his shoulder briefly. “Tell me about your parabatai. If you want to.”

Murphy inhaled sharply, preparing for the emotional stab. 

But somehow, he felt like…he wanted to talk to Emori. Like Emori would listen. And not just offer him useless condolences.

Emori wanted to know the story rather than just hear it.

“Okay,” he said. “Show me the way to the roof.”

…

“When she wakes, she will not need me anymore.”

“Oh.” Miller sagged against the doorframe slightly. “I’ve kind of gotten used to having you around.”

He might have been wrong, but there was a hint of a smile on Jackson’s gaunt face. “It’s been two days, Miller.”

“Hey, um.” Miller cleared his throat. “You can call me Nate, you know? Usually just Bellamy and Octavia call me Miller. And Kane, but he’s Kane.”

“Nate, then,” Jackson said.

“Do you have a first name?” Miller blurted. “I know the Silent Brothers usually—”

“I do,” Jackson said. “It’s Eric.”

“Eric.”

“Nate.”

Octavia stirred then, slightly, cracking her eyes open. “I’m ready to go on a mission,” she mumbled under her breath.

“I don’t think so,” Miller said. “You can’t leave this bed for another day.”

“That’s bullshit.”

She pointed at Jackson. “Did I just hear you talk out loud? With your mouth?”

Jackson nodded, but didn’t offer any further comment.

“Wow.” Octavia sagged against the pillow again, and was asleep within seconds.

“I’d better be going, then,” Jackson said quietly.

“Wait.” Miller detached himself from the doorframe. “Let me walk you out.”

After all their conversation the past two days, their silent walk down the hall was eerily silent.

“If you ever feel like getting out of the Silent City,” Miller hedged, “let me know.”  
Jackson laughed quietly. “We almost never leave the Silent City,” he said. “Although, in my current state, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stay.”

The two stared at each other carefully, each trying to read the other’s face. Waiting for a sign.

Finally, Miller gave a small nod and stepped back, allowing Jackson to walk through the Institute’s front door and out the gate.

He didn’t look back.

…

Harper and Monty had disappeared into the kitchen under the pretense of hot chocolate, but, as Bellamy had mentioned, were probably making out. 

“They won’t be back for a while,” Clarke concurred. She was lying on her back by the fire that Harper had vacated with a copy of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Bellamy recognized the books piled next to her; they had been his sister’s years ago.

“Have you read those before?” Bellamy asked.

“They’re my childhood favorites.” Clarke glanced over at him, then returned her gaze to the book. “Lena was always my favorite.”

“The shy artist? I would have thought you’d identify more with Bee.”

“What, because I’m blonde?”

“No, because you’re not afraid of confrontation. And Lena definitely is.”

Clarke snorted, setting the book down on the floor and sitting up. “Well, you’re just like Kostos, anyway.”

“Kostos was a gentleman.”

“Kostos was a prick!”

Bellamy laughed, setting his own book down. Like Clarke, he was engrossed in a childhood favorite—Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

He realized with a start that he wasn’t actually annoyed by her anymore. Somehow, at some point, that ship had effectively sailed.

Now she was just…cute. Assertive and cute. Brazen. Fiery.

Really cute.

Probably sharing his thoughts, Clarke’s face flushed slightly and she stared into the fire. 

“Hey, Clarke?”

She glanced over her shoulder, round face outlined in the firelight illuminating her hair to a shade of gold. “Hey, Bellamy.”

“I don’t hate the fact that you’re here.”

She snorted and turned to face the fire again. “I don’t hate the fact that I’m here, either.”

…

When Bellamy finally came in, he seemed not shocked that Miller was sprawled on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

“I fucked up,” Miller groaned.

Bellamy clicked his tongue, heading towards his bookshelf and rooting around on the top shelf. “On a scale of pissed off Kane to pissed off the Fair Folk?”

“I might be in love with a Silent Brother.”

“Whoa.” Abandoning the books, Bellamy turned to face Miller. “Is it the one that was here yesterday? The one that looks way more human than the others?”

“Brother Jackson. Eric.” Miller covered his face. “He’s just…I don’t even know. By the Angel. What does one even do at this point?”

Bellamy sighed. “Dude. You can’t fall in love with a Silent Brother. You can’t let yourself do that.”

“Sucks to be me,” Miller replied. “Anyway, who knows how long he’ll be able to stay with the Brothers after what happened with the heavenly fire? He might be discharged and have nowhere to go. And he’ll just be a regular Shadowhunter who needs an Institute—”

“Miller.”

“I’m such a mess. We spent two whole days talking and look at me, coming to you for advice. You’re more hopeless than I am.”

“I am not hopeless,” Bellamy protested.

“Asked Clarke out yet?” 

Bellamy sputtered indignantly, and Miller grinned. “Exactly.”

“I’m not asking Clarke out.”

“Whatever.” Miller’s hands floated back to his face. “God. I almost kissed him. I didn’t, though. I didn’t.”

Bellamy sighed heavily. “God, I really wish I could help you. After Bryan…” He trailed off. “You deserve something good. Something real.”

“Hey,” Miller said mildly. “I have friends. That’s real enough for me. You’re my family, Bell. You and your stupid shithead sister, and Monty and Jasper and Kane, too.”

“Yeah.” The situation probably warranted a hug, but Bellamy just clapped his friend on the back.

It was okay. Miller understood.

…

Murphy dangled his legs off the building, watching the sounds of Polis echo below. It was a city like he’d never seen—the only other place he’d been, other than Arkadia, was Alicante, and that city had no cars, no shouting, no honking horns and changing streetlights and laughter.

God, there was so much laughter. Laughter from a child walking home with his parents, hysterical laughter from a group of teenagers gathered on a street corner with a video camera, breathless laughter from Emori beside him, the wind whipping through her dark hair.

“Won’t your friends wonder where you are?” he asked, leaning backwards against his elbows. There were no visible stars with all the light pollution, but he found it didn’t matter. 

“They already know,” Emori said. “They spotted us last night. Gave me hell all day about, in their words, my Nephilim plaything.”

Murphy snorted. “Shadowhunters have such an idea about Downworlders,” he said. “They think every Downworlder looks up to us. They’re so fucking stupid.”

Emori hummed slightly. “I think Downworlders have a false idea about Shadowhunters, too,” she said. “I mean, you guys are pretty useful. For killing demons. And keeping order. Mostly. I really do fucking hate the Clave.”

“Oh, we all hate the Clave.”

More laughter.

Murphy was beginning to suspect he could get used to this.

“Tell me about your parabatai,” Emori said. 

Murphy took a deep breath. “This is about to get depressing,” he warned. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”

Emori nodded. “I want to hear it.”

“Okay. Um.” Murphy cleared his throat. “He was only a year younger than me. And Alex was just…everything good in the world.”

“How so?”

“He wasn’t, like, a goody-two-shoes—he hated the Clave, actually, like anyone else. But he just, like, desperately cared about people. And we were inseparable. I think if we weren’t parabatai, he would have wanted to be a Silent Brother, but he couldn’t leave me. He wouldn’t. He even considered going to the Scholomance, but the Centurions don’t have parabatai.” He swallowed. “He was the kindest person I’ve ever known.”

“So what happened?”

“I was fourteen, and he was thirteen—and the Clave was withholding meds,” he said. “Mundane medicine. They had some of it, and I was dying, and they just said, ‘Sed lex dura lex,’ and wouldn’t let one of their own rely on mundane treatment.”

“You were dying? Not him?”

“He went to steal some.” Murphy ducked his head. “I tried to tell him not to go, but he did, and the Clave caught him, and they killed him.” His chin jerked. “Shortly after that, I recovered.”

Emori could hear the implication behind the words.

He’d died for nothing.

“Oh,” she said quietly.

Murphy ran a hand over his face. “Sorry. I warned you this was going to get depressing. Anyway, after Alex…died…I left.” He glanced at Emori, who was now watching him intently, hugging her knees. “I fled to the Arkadia Institute. Called myself by my last name. Nobody’s called me John since. Until you did.”

“I can stop,” Emori hedged.

“No.” He shook his head and turned to face her. “Don’t. It’s my name. I’m not going to run from it anymore.” 

…

Clarke rolled out of bed as there was a knock on the door, Stumbling in her tank top and sweatpants, she pushed her tangled hair out of her face and opened the door, recoiling from the hallway light.

Bellamy was standing there, seemingly speechless in the same t-shirt and jeans he’d been wearing all day, even though it was almost 1:00 in the morning.

“Bellamy?” she whispered sleepily. “What’s wrong?”

“I just realized I haven’t kissed you yet,” he blurted. “And I felt like I should do that.”

Slightly taken aback, Clarke squinted up at him. “I guess you’d better,” she said.

“I guess I’d better.”

And part of her had thought it was a joke, but when he cupped her face and kissed her, the other part of her knew it was real.

It was Bellamy. She was kissing Bellamy. At 1:00 in the morning, in her pajamas, she was kissing Bellamy Blake.

Two days here, and she’d already lost her mind.

…

“Tell me about your life.”

“Besides being tossed on the street with the garbage?” Emori said. “Okay. I had a brother. Otan.”

“Had.”

“Have, I suppose. I tried to convince him to run with me when Roan came, but he wouldn’t. He pretends I’m dead now.” Emori reached for his hand. “Sometimes I’ll sneak back to visit him. Sit on his bed and try to catch him when he comes into his room. But he will never talk.”

Murphy squeezed her hand. “You haven’t talked to him since you Turned?”

She shook her head. “What good is it?” she asked. “Being alive, if everyone you love believes you are dead?”

“You find new people to love,” Murphy said. “That’s what I did, too. For better or for worse, Clarke and Harper and Abby are my family now.”

Emori fell quiet, but she didn’t take her hand back, and the two shifted to lie back against the roof and stare up at the sky. At that time of the night, most of the lights in that part of the city had gone dark, and a few of the brighter stars were now visible. 

“I’m hoping,” Emori said, “that we’ll know each other long enough that I can be your family, too.”

Murphy almost smiled.

“That sounds like a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm on tumblr !!!!!! @snowylexa


	8. Chapter 8

A week passed—Octavia rebounded from the unexpected attack with almost alarming buoyancy. So desperate to go on a mission was she, that Kane begrudgingly gave in as the group received reports of a werewolf attack.

“You’re kidding!” Bellamy complained loudly. “You won’t let me go, but you’ll let her go?”

“We don’t actually need you,” Clarke pointed out, shoving two seraph blades into her belt. “Or her, for that matter.”

“She’s good at dealing with Downworlders,” Miller said. Over the week, he and Clarke had become good friends, and now she caught a butterfly knife without even looking as he tossed it to her. “She could use the exercise.”

“I could use the exercise,” Bellamy muttered. Clarke winked, and he rolled his eyes.

They hadn’t brought up the spontaneous make-out session since it happened, but it hadn’t been awkward, either. Just…closer than before. They’d sit directly next to each other, walk down hallways together, pass each other stuff without the other having to ask for it. 

Octavia had drawn up major suspicions that they looked like a couple. But they neither confirmed nor denied.

For her part, Clarke didn’t exactly want to bring up That conversation, and it seemed like Bellamy didn’t either. Which was fine by her. Let him be a chicken. She could always just kiss him again.

“Are we going?” Octavia complained. “God, can you keep your eye-fucking PG?”

“Octavia!”

“Sorry, Monty—am I wrong?”

“We’re still waiting on Jasper,” Miller said. “Monty, where the hell is he?”

Monty shrugged, adjusting his gear and brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I’m his parabatai, not his mom.”

Miller muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath, causing Clarke to shove him. He elbowed her, and she smirked over her shoulder at Bellamy, who was indignantly focusing 110% of his attention on a book that he was holding upside-down.

“Here!” Jasper, who was running at full-speed down the hall, held out his stele to Monty. “Rune me?”

“Sure.” As usual, knowing exactly what runes he wanted, Monty sketched Sure-Strike and Agility runes on the back of his neck. “Anything else?”

“Don’t think so. Actually, I could use an energy rune.”

“Gotcha.” Monty handed the stele back to Jasper, who repeated the same runes on him.

“Get your runes already?” Kane asked, emerging into the hall. The five of them nodded, and Bellamy abandoned his book to check Octavia’s arms.

“More energy runes,” he said gruffly.

“She’s got plenty of energy,” Clarke said. “You don’t need to be so worried, Bellamy. We’ve got her.”

“My sister, my responsibility.” He quirked an eyebrow at Clarke. “It’s my job to be worried.”

“Oh, shut up,” Octavia said. “Okay, let’s go. Who’s driving?”

“I am,” Miller said. “Don’t even think about it, Tiny Blake.”

“Call me that ONE more time!”

Chuckling, Clarke lead the procession of heavily armed Nephilim to the van.

…

“So all of the kids are out of the Institute?”

Kane nodded. “I sent Harper and Bellamy to check with Raven Reyes about the Fair Folk incident. I would have had Clarke do it, but she’s out on the werewolf call.” He frowned. “But we’re missing one of your wards, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” Abby squinted. “Where the hell is Murphy?”

“He’s probably fine,” Kane said. “He’s, what, eighteen? He can take care of himself.”

“Seventeen,” Abby said. “So is Clarke. Harper just turned eighteen.”

Kane smiled. “Where’s she doing her travel year?”

“She hasn’t really made up her mind. Her parabatai, Monroe—she’s looking after the Institute right now—is dead-set on TonDC, but she won’t actually say that. She wants Harper to cast a vote.”

“Harper was okay coming here without her parabatai?”

“She wasn’t thrilled about it, but I couldn’t exactly just bring Clarke and Murphy. Plus, she’d always wanted to see Polis.”

“Clarke doesn’t have a parabatai, does she?”

Abby shook her head. “She, um...no. She doesn’t.”

“Seems pretty headstrong.”

Abby snorted. “You don’t know the half of it.”

…

“You are such an idiot.”

“You asshole, Roan, like you’ve never befriended a human.”

“Once! One time, Anya, and need I remind you, this is not a human, this is one of the Nephilim—”

“He’s different,” Emori interrupted. “He’s not like the others.”

Murphy’s eyes cracked open. Shit. At some point while he and Emori were talking, he’d fallen asleep on the roof.

And now he had no idea what time it was, or where he was, and he was surrounded by pissed-off vampires.

“Well,” Anya said. “Do you actually have feelings for this Shadowhunter? I wouldn’t have believed it of you, Emori.”

“I don’t know,” Emori said quietly. “Wow, Anya, you’re one to talk. You and their Consul—”

“Lexa wasn’t Consul yet,” Anya gritted. “She’s only twenty, you know. She was only elected Consul last year.”

Murphy closed his eyes again, hoping none of them had noticed his momentary lapse in sleep.

“And,” Anya added, “it’s not like we were romantically involved, like you and this boy. I was her mentor. I taught her to fight.”

“Taught the Consul to fight against us,” Roan muttered.

“That’s IT,” Anya started, and Murphy heard a shout and some scuffling.

“ENOUGH!” Emori yelled. “Anya, go upstairs.”

“You don’t give me orders,” Anya started, but apparently Emori put up a convincing nonverbal argument, and Murphy heard her footsteps retreating up the rickety staircase.

“What are we going to do if this goes downhill?” Roan asked. “Come on, Emori, you can’t seriously mean this to continue.”

“Honestly, shut the fuck up, Roan. If you ever bothered to look anywhere other than in the mirror, you might be able to see that the world isn’t all black and white anymore.” She paused. “Some Shadowhunters are better than that.”

Roan was quiet. Then, “The boy’s awake,” he said gruffly. “His breathing is uneven.”

Caught, Murphy opened his eyes and sat up. He was on a couch, still inside the warehouse, and Emori and Roan were both standing about five feet away from him. Emori turned to face him as he swung his legs off the couch and stood up.

“I should be getting back to the Institute,” he said.

“Wait.” Emori glared at Roan. “I’m sorry for whatever you heard from this dipshit,” she said. 

“It’s fine. Really.” Murphy, who had no desire to piss off the head of the Polis vampire clan, nodded in Roan’s direction. “You might be right about most of us.”

Roan huffed slightly. “I got that part all by myself.”

“Oh, be quiet for once.” Emori leaned forward to kiss Murphy on the cheek. “Be careful to shut the inner door before opening the outer one,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: @abbygrifffin


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HI I'M SO SO SORRY ABOUT THE EIGHT MONTH HIATUS. y'all know me, i'm a fucking disaster. so, i wrote half of this chapter in, uh, december, and the other half now, because i'm trying some new adhd meds and this was my experiment to see if they're working. spoiler alert, fuck yeah they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> previously on this old ass fic, because i don't expect anyone to remember this…
> 
> the arkadian institute (abby griffin, clarke griffin, john murphy, and harper mcintyre), is visiting the polis institute (marcus kane, octavia blake, bellamy blake, nathan miller, monty green and jasper jordan) to help sort out an issue with the vampire clan. meanwhile, murphy is growing steadily closer to emori, one of the vampires. clarke and bellamy, in halfhearted rivalry, are barely trying to pretend they aren't flirting with each other. miller's confessed to bellamy that he has a thing for jackson, an ex-silent brother who is still trying desperately to keep up with the brotherhood. abby and kane, who sometimes disagree on leadership styles, are finding they have more in common than they think. warlocks raven reyes and niylah are slightly wary of the suspiciously friendly new seelie queen, luna. 
> 
> last chapter, the group received word of a werewolf attack, and clarke, octavia, miller, and parabatai monty and jasper are headed to investigate.
> 
> happy reading, and thanks for sticking with me!

Blades already blazing, Clarke and Octavia swung open their doors as Miller parked the van by a tree. They’d gone as far into the forest as they could, but there were too many trees blocking the way.

“Eyes sharp,” Octavia droned in a pitch-perfect imitation of her brother. “Weapons hot.”

“Yeah, because we really needed a Bellamy 2.0,” Clarke deadpanned.

“Why?” Miller teased. “So you can hook up with both of them?”

Clarke huffed. Octavia winked.

“Jasper and I will take perimeter,” Monty said. 

“Perimeter of what?” Clarke scoffed. “This is a giant forest. No way you can cover the entire perimeter.”

“Good thing we brought these.” Octavia held up her radio. “Clarke, I just want to say, you are a genius, a true visionary, and—”

A loud crash startled their attention. Monty raised his blade, Jasper at his back.

“Damn,” Miller said. “Clarke, take left, Tiny Blake, right. Thing One and Thing Two, cover our asses. Sweep the perimeter. Whatever the hell you just said.”

“Why is Clarke the only one you call by her actual name?” Octavia complained, pulling out the giant sword sheathed on her back.

“Because Clarke isn’t annoying like the rest of you fucks. Move out!”

Clarke split from the group, running left into the forest, circling around the source of the noise. A flash of movement echoed through the woods, and she sheathed her blade and grabbed two throwing knives, speeding towards the source of the noise. On her right, she could see Miller, running even faster, and Octavia, gripping her sword, looking incredibly badass. Clarke wondered if she could take a few pointers on blade-wielding from her.

Sometimes, it was hard for Clarke to tell why Bellamy was protecting his sister so fiercely. Octavia was a regular Cecily Herondale. Which begged the conclusion that Bellamy was anything like Will Herondale. Maybe without the Welsh blood. 

Clarke had heard the stories, just like everyone else. But she was no Tessa Gray, she knew that. (She’d met Tessa. Tessa was infinitely patient, a trait that Clarke was lacking.)

Maybe she and Bellamy were a different kind of compatible.

The thought almost stopped her short. Dating Bellamy, for real, was something she hadn’t really considered.

When Miller whizzed past her, she resumed her pace, eyes rapidly flicking back and forth to spot the offender.

“We’re on the lookout for werewolves, right?” Jasper panted into the radio. "Because I'm not seeing anything over here except a suspicious acorn."

"How can an acorn be suspicious?" Monty argued. 

“Yes,” Clarke managed, spotting a flash of fur in the trees. “I see it! Keep going, we’ve almost got it cornered!”

A burst of energy. Running like the wind.

And Octavia had it pinned.

…

“Hey.”

Murphy glanced up as he pushed the Institute gates open. Bellamy was beside him, dark hair swept to one side.

“Hey,” Murphy said. “Where’ve you been?”

“The High Warlock’s place. Kane wanted me to talk to her about the Seelies,” he said. “What about you?”

“Well…”

“Trashbag vampire?”

“What?”

“Clarke told us.” He regarded Murphy curiously. “What’s the deal with you two? Are you…forming an alliance?”

Murphy huffed. “Clearly, she didn’t tell you enough.” He kicked a rock out of the path. “She’s…so different from any other vampire I’ve ever met. And I…don’t know.”

“Wait.” Bellamy literally quit walking. “Where the fuck is the sardonic John Murphy that’s been kicking around for the past week? What has she done to you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, don’t be an ass about it. You asked. I’m telling you what happened.”

“By the Angel,” Bellamy muttered. 

“Jealous, Blake?”

Bellamy smirked slightly. “You should be the jealous one. There are hundreds of vampires," he added, dropping his tone dramatically, "but only one of me.”

“Yeah, you’re a real delight.”

“We probably would have made a great power couple.”

“Yeah, but where do you think all the power would come from?” Murphy placed his hand to the door, and it responded to his Shadowhunter blood, swinging inwards.

Briefly, he wondered if Bellamy really was into guys as well as ogling Clarke, but it didn’t really matter. Because, of course, Clarke, and Murphy was maybe-dating Emori. Possibly. Kind of.

He wondered how Abby would react to him seeing a Downworlder. A vampire. A Polis vampire, no less. She'd never been prejudiced against Downworlders, as far as he could tell, but there was a lot he didn't know about her.

Whatever. Like he cared what Abby thought, anyway.

“Bellamy?” Kane called. “Is that you?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy said. “I found some garbage trekking the streets.”

“Murphy’s back?”

“Thanks, Abby,” Murphy grumbled. “Yes, I’m back.”

“Word on the street,” Kane said, as they appeared in the sitting room, “is that you were trying to make peace with the vampires.”

Bellamy snorted. “Depends on your definition of peace.”

Murphy stomped on Bellamy’s foot. “Actually, I’m, um…” He glanced at the ceiling. “Kind of…hanging out with one of them.”

Abby’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

Harper ambled in. “Are you telling Abby about your trashbag vampire?”

“Stop calling Emori a trashbag,” Bellamy said. “She’s…a trashsaka.”

“What the fuck is that?”

Bellamy shrugged. “A Seelie word for Downworlders who consort with Shadowhunters.”

“The Seelies have a lot of words,” Abby muttered. “Wanheda, for one.”

“Blodreina,” Bellamy added. When Abby arched a brow, he clarified, “O had a run-in with a few of them during the Dark War.”

“No, I’ve heard of Blodreina,” Abby said. “I just didn’t know she was your sister.” She hesitated. “Didn’t she…smear the blood of the Seelies on her face and wear it as warpaint?”

Bellamy winced. “She’s not proud of it.”

“Neither am I,” Kane said darkly.

Harper folded her legs in front of the fireplace, toying with her stele. “Any other legends we’ve heard of that are secretly you guys?”

The front door banged open, and the sound of racing footsteps echoed on the floor. The five Shadowhunters jumped to their feet as Miller burst into the room, covered in blood and breathing like a marathoner. 

“It wasn’t a werewolf attack,” he panted. “Well, not on a mundane, anyway. The werewolves cast out their Alpha, but he survived somehow.”

“What?” Kane shoved past Miller. “We can’t interfere in werewolf business! We're already neck-deep in vampire problems!”

“He’s dying!” Octavia shouted from the hall. “Goddamn it, we don’t have time for politics!”

“That’s literally the reason the Arkadians are here!” Kane shot back. “Or did you forget that you’re the reason we’re in this mess?”

Octavia jumped to her feet, eyes flashing, but Bellamy scrambled to get between them.

“Unnecessary,” he said quietly.

Kane dipped his head slightly. “I’m sorry, Octavia. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

“Whatever,” she muttered. “Come on! He’s about to die. Politics be damned, Kane, I’m not letting that happen.”

The group dashed over to the door, where Clarke and Monty were crouching over a man, covered in tattoos and blood, deep cuts slicing his skin all over. He wore tattered gym shorts, but was shirtless, revealing the depth of his wounds, and appeared to be unconscious. 

“Jasper’s getting bandages,” Monty said. 

Clarke felt for a pulse. “We can’t move him yet,” she said. “He’s lost too much blood. Werewolves heal quickly…if we can stop the bleeding…”

“Lincoln,” Kane said, examining him with a worried frown. “I’ve met with him before; his policies aren’t what I’d typically expect from a werewolf. He’s loyal to the Accords, and values peace over fighting.”

“Out of bounds,” Octavia said through gritted teeth. “Don’t stereotype.”

“I wasn’t—” Kane began, but checked himself as Clarke raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t trying to,” he amended. “I’ve only met a few werewolves. None of them seemed terribly interested in cooperating.”

“To be fair,” Bellamy said, “Shadowhunters had a hand in that.”

Kane and Abby shared a look as Jasper returned with bandages and rags, and the kids began mopping up his wounds.

“This generation’s got ideals that would have gotten them cast out of the Clave a hundred years ago,” Abby said wryly, quietly enough that only Kane heard. “Incredible, isn’t it?”

“I’m proud,” Kane said, watching them work. “They didn’t catch on to the Clave’s corrupt beliefs. They understand equality.” He watched Octavia slide a clean rag under Lincoln’s head, protecting it from the hard, muddy floor. “They’re going to change everything, aren’t they?”

Abby gave him a slightly soft look. “I hope so.”

“Clarke knows what she’s doing,” Kane commented, watching the girl tie off the bandages. “Did you teach her any of this?”

“There was an…emergency, once,” Abby said haltingly. “Another werewolf, actually. Something…not Clave-approved. We had to do a blood transfusion. I won’t go into the gory details, but we were trying to save a young girl, and the only way we could get blood was from her sister, who was brain-dead.” She swallowed. “We don’t have much equipment on hand. Murphy had to pump her heart. By hand.”

Kane cast a look at the boy, who was standing off to the side, looking unsure of what to do. As the kids began to lift Lincoln’s body, he darted forward to help but didn’t end up doing much more than supporting Bellamy’s arm as they hurried down the corridor to the infirmary. 

“He did it? Willingly?”

“He’s got a big heart,” Abby said, “even after all he’s been through. Not that he’ll ever admit that he has feelings. Although,” she remembered, “maybe that girl he mentioned knows something we don’t.”

Kane grinned. “The vampire?”

Abby elbowed him. “Stereotypes,” she said, mock-sternly. “Remember?”

…

The sheets were instantly soaked in blood as they set Lincoln down. Clarke laid an ear to his chest, listening for his heartbeat.

“His heart stopped,” she gasped. “Shit. Okay. There should be some spare blood for emergencies—make sure it’s O-neg.”

Octavia looked close to tears. “We don’t,” she said. “Not anymore. We had to use it for Bell once.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Murphy said, without planning to speak.

Seven heads shot towards him.

“Well?” Jasper demanded.

“Just…hold on.” Murphy grabbed his phone and slipped outside, scrolling through his contacts and hitting CALL.

The phone rang four times before a voice picked up, sounding disgruntled and half-asleep. “What’s going on?”

“Emori?” Murphy bit his lip. “Sorry to wake you, but I really, really need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: @tackmins


End file.
